Grace
by chaletfan
Summary: A Slayer who doesn't want to be called. Faith and Xander. And their baby. Things don't go well. In fact they go very wrong indeed.
1. Chapter 1

Shifting. That's the thing about life. It's a shift. You move, you settle, and when the wind takes you, you move and settle again. May not be big steps, may not even be a step at all. May just be a fall, a stumble, or just a blink of the eye.

But you move. You move, because that's what you do. You itch. You twitch. You move across the world in a heartbeat and back home in time for supper.

That all changes when you become a Slayer.

You don't shift. You stick, you hold, you settle, even though you may be one foot in a hell dimension and one foot in Vegas. You're a thing of weight. Of solidness. Of truth and power and bravery.

But when you get scared, that's when it all changes.

And when you do get scared, that's when you realise something.

You realise that it's all going to end.

This was something Grace was realising right now.

She ducked the blade that hungered for her neck, and snapped out her leg at the thing coming towards her. She'd taken a short cut home from school, lost in the drug of her new power, and now she was here. Surrounded by shadows and knives and death.

And the most awful thing was that this death had not spoken a single word. Dressed in street clothes, so similar to every other student on campus that she'd ignored it, it had walked behind her for a good fifteen minutes before catching up to her in the shadows between the street lights. It had attacked her. Viciously. Ruthlessly. It was only after several bruised, bloody minutes that she was able to realise what was happening to her and fight back. Breath, cold and smoke-like, laced around the two of them now and blood flecked the pavement beneath their dancing feet.

The thing flung back its hood, revealing two long spiralling horns. Grace paused in sudden astonishment, watching them grow from its forehead. It caught her eye, growled with displeasure, and then fell forward onto its arms and charged her.

Grace threw herself onto the side of a nearby house, using it to lever herself over the thing. But it wasn't good enough. Her leg dangled for a second too long and she was dimly furious at the thought she might get killed by a devil goat, and then she was just terrified again because at the end of the road she saw another thing unfurling itself from the darkness.

So she ran.

Before this, before all of the madness, she hadn't been fit. She hadn't even been remotely healthy. She'd been pizza and chips and comfortable sweaters. She'd been in the shadows, and comfortable there. When she'd been called that had all been changed. She'd shifted. She'd woken up one day and left her old life in ashes.

Some days she missed it. Some days she didn't.

Right now, she'd have cut her arm off to regain it.

Conscious of the gathering mass at the end of the road, she flung herself off the path and vaulted neatly into the back garden of a nearby house. For a moment she paused, staring at the light streaming through the patio doors. Inside the house two young children were playing with their toys, whilst their parents watched TV. The image was a gutpunch and made her double up to vomit, hard, onto their neatly laid crazy paving.

Behind her she heard a crash as the fence splintered and she ran again, cutting past the summer house and the washing line still pegged with forgotten socks. Her heard was pounding with a thick terror. She couldn't even breathe coherently any more. Her breath was ragged, ripped from her with every step. She was working on instinct.

And the instinct of a thousand Slayers made her stop and turn and face the devil thing. Inside she was all screams. Outside she looked like she was made of ice and it was that, more than anything, that made the thing rear back up onto its two hind legs and see

Grace said, "Who are you?" No, she didn't say it. She flung it out as a question that would not be ignored. This was what happened when you became a Slayer. Sometimes your body did things you couldn't and, in a way, would never wholly understand. Right now, she was settling. Rooting her feet deep down into the earth. Pulling herself together and pushing past the instinct that was still screaming at her to run. She wouldn't run. Technically, she probably couldn't. Not with the sparking pain that was swallowing her ws.

The thing smiled at her. It smiled. Madness. She couldn't believe it. If she'd have been watching this on a film, she'd have pulled the popcorn out by now and been throwing it at the screen. "Ridiculous," she said, "Want me to rip your tongue out?" Underneath her toes, she felt the jagged edge of a shattered bottle and she started to work it out with the edge of her boot.

"Please," said the thing in excellent English. Bizarrely enough, there was definitely the hint of a local accent there. "I'd like to see you try. Want to know what else I'd like? A Slayer that doesn't need the whole 'oh let me tell you how I'm going to kill you' part of the fight. You girls talk, talk, talk. It's great the first one you kill, but the second? Boring. And the third? Repetitive. Banal. Cliched."

Grace felt her jaw drop. And then, before she could stop herself, she snapped. "Wait, you think I chose this?"

"I think you were chosen," said the thing. It laughed. "Little joke there you may appreciate."

It stepped forward, and its whole body slid back onto all fours. A brief blast of air escaped its nostrils. Its horns glinted in the fragments of light from the house behind them. "We done now? Can I kill you?"

Grace shook her head. "No," she said. And then, before she could stop herself, she said, "Yes. Please."

"Well, that's confusing," said the thing.

Grace bit her lip, and all of the Slayer bravado that had been in her moments earlier, melted away. Suddenly she was the girl again, desperately wanting to be in the corner and away from all of the eyes. "You're telling me," she said. "Please. Please do this."

"You're giving up?"

She nodded. "Yes," she said, and she was water inside. She was shifting. Moving on. So very ready to move on. "Please."

The thing advanced on her, rearing back up onto its hind legs. It towered above her, and in the darkness she saw the glint of his sword as he held it above her head. "You were great," it said politely, "Really great. Well done you."

The sword swung down towards her head, and Grace swung upwards with the glass bottle she'd been digging out of the ground. She felt its blade graze the top of her head but she didn't care because she was too busy powering her fist and her improvised weapon straight into the centre of the things chest.

It stumbled, gasping, and she caught its eye as she rolled out of its path. "That was just – rude," it said as it fell. Dead.

Grace stared at her bloody hand, at the heart of the thing she held within her grip, and at the innocuous small piece of green glass that had saved her life.

"I don't want this," she said slowly, "I don't want this life."

As if in a dream, she lifted the glass up and placed it against her throat. She pressed it into her skin, and she closed her eyes.

And then a voice, a new voice, said, quite calmly, "Hey."

Grace opened her eyes. In front of her stood a tall, dark-haired woman Behind her stood a man wearing an eyepatch and wearing a baby sling.

"You're her," said Grace. She dropped the glass. And then she dropped herself, fainting heavily onto the ground.

"Yep," said Faith.

"Them," said Xander, "Them, surely. You Slayers and your grammar." He stepped forward and threw something onto the goat. In his arms, the baby gurgled contentedly.

"Shut up grandma," said Faith, bending to the girl. "She's hurt. Bad."

"Could you sound any more cliched?" Xander tapped his ear, opening up a channel. "Four to transport, Lieutenant."

"You are such a dick," said Faith. She scooped the girl in her arms, making nothing of the weight, before flicking her lighter onto the thing. It flared gloriously before smoking away into nothingness.

"That's how you li-" A burst of light swallowed the group and then there was nothing left save the strange burnt outline of a giant goat thing that was destined to mystify the local populace on the morning.

But there was something left.

Something sat back in the darkness, crying its heart open over the death of its lifemate.

The second of the demons.

The second of the demons, with the scent of Slayers in its nostrils.


	2. Chapter 2

Grace woke in a clean white room. Even before her eyes had opened, she could feel the cleanliness.

The woman in the middle of the room turned, sensing the movement, and shook her head as Grace caught her eye. "It's not me," he said, "Before you ask, it's not me. I don't really care about the whole clean and shiny but apparently we've got to have standards somewhere. You would not believe how fussy that guy can get."

Grace found her voice. "Who are you?" she said slowly. Her body felt like sunshine. Glorious. And her leg didn't hurt a bit.

"You're healed," said the woman, "Little bit of us helping, 'cause you were exhausted, but a lot was yourself. Handy part of the package, that one."

"Who. Are. You," repeated Grace.

The woman smiled. "My name's Faith," she said, "I'm a Slayer. Like you."

"You're not like me," cut back Grace, pulling herself off the bed. She realised as she did that somebody had changed her clothes. Her school uniform had been replaced by a loose t-shirt and a pair of linen trousers. She felt like her mum. "My clothes?" she said.

"Blooded. Ruined," replied Faith. She looked abashed. "I'm sorry, but we had to check you were okay and it seemed better just to get rid of them."

"You burnt my school uniform." She was assessing the room as she spoke, checking the exits and preparing herself. This was ridiculous. And it made her mad. She didn't have a clue who this woman was, and the thought that she'd dressed her in some sort of stupid old woman yoga outfit made her want to get out of there. Right now.

Faith still had that look of awkwardness on her face. "Yes," she said, "We did."

"I want to leave," said Grace.

"Fine," said Faith. "But before you go-?"

Grace couldn't stop herself from clenching her fists. "No _before_ anything. I'm leaving. Right now."

And it was then that something in Faith suddenly changed. It was a subtle, dreamy shift, but Grace saw it with her eyes that suddenly saw everything. "Don't make me stop you," she said lightly.

"Excuse me?"

Faith shrugged. "I will, if you're going to be all stupid about this."

"Will what?" Grace was having a major case of deja-vu. "Wait, tell me you've not got horns," she said, "Just to make sure I'm not still back there."

"What? No. No horns. Although occasionally _the _horn. But that's another thing entirely which I am not telling you about and not today. So, take a second. Let me talk to you."

"No!" snapped Grace, "No, no, and no!" She stepped forward, ready to duck and swerve her way past Faith. The two of them locked eyes and then Faith shrugged. "Fine," she said, "Go on then. Go die. I won't stop you."

Grace didn't say anything. Just very carefully extended her middle finger at Faith before running past her and out of the door.

Faith waited until she was out of the room before calling Xander on her phone. "She's running," said the Slayer with a sense of approval. "And I kinda like her."


	3. Chapter 3

Grace ran, in her stupid yoga-mum outfit, down the corridor. She'd known the woman and not-known her at the same time. How could that be? How could you know somebody's face, know it so vividly that to see it tears you apart, and then in the same breath, not know them at all? She thought this might be madness. It had to be. There was no other way she could describe it. The knowing and the unknowing. The way memories of somebody else, sensations of a life already lived, the way they seemed to be crowding out who she was. And the way she'd known this woman, fainted at her sheer presence, whilst not even knowing her name.

Frustration suddenly overwhelmed her and as she ran down the corridor of this ridiculous endless place, she felt herself start to cry. Then a voice inside her told her this wasn't the time, she could cry when she was safe, and another voice told her that if she leapt out of the window – now – just now – she'd survive if she tucked and rolled and landed on something soft. And all that just made her cry harder because it made the little part where she still felt like Grace seem further and further away.

Eventually she stumbled out into a bigger, wider room. It was full of air. The ceilings seemed to be miles away, and the windows were flung wide open. Instantly she felt a thousand scenarios run through her head, and several of them involved her throwing herself out of the window and into the nearest psychiatric ward. She made for the first, and then paused as she realised she wasn't alone.

Sat in the room, caught in a ray of sunlight, was the eyepatch man and a baby. He nodded at her. "Morning," he said, "So how's it going?"

"Who ARE you people?" she cried, feeling her precarious grasp on reality slip away. How could they not see what was happening to her?

"First thing is, we're not trying to hurt you," he replied.

"And can you SEE how MAD that sounds? Saying that? As your first thing?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said.

The baby on his knee gurgled and scrunched its face together. The man frowned. "She's pooing," he told Grace, "It tends to go radioactive."

She didn't reply. All the voices, all the shattered glass voices were suddenly screaming as one and the ferocity of this made her fall to her knees and see black stars in front of her eyes. And it was all focused on the baby. The wrong, wrong, wrongess of the baby.

"Grace," said the man, "Grace, are you still there?"

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Xander," said the man.

She shook her head, gritting her teeth as the voices slammed around inside of her and the pain grew bigger. "No. What's your name."

"Xander," said the man, "But I don't-"

"The. Baby."

"Oh," said Xander, "Wow. Pronouns are not your friend, then, hey? So, This is Lucy. Say hello to Grace, Lucy." He held the baby up to her, wincing as he got a scent of the nappy. "And Lucy's pooped, so we need to clean up her behind before we get done for storing toxic waste. Want to stay, Grace? I mean, it's not pretty, but we got the windows open for a reason."

Grace stayed down. She took a deep breath and forced herself to see past the stars, and to shut the voices down. "She's wrong," she said eventually, when her tongue had remembered how to speak.

"She's very wrong right now," agreed Xander, as he changed the nappy of the baby in a quick practiced manner. "But can we talk about you Grace, and about what's happening with you? Would that be a thing we could do?"

Grace stood up, slowly. She was dimly aware that her fists were still clenched and even as she tried, she could not unclench them. The voices in her head were all focused on the baby. The hideous wrongness of the baby. Grace turned her head to look at Xander. Her eyes rested on him even though her mind was scattering stars across the world. "Who are you people?" she said. Behind her, she sensed the arrival of the Faith-woman. A voice in her head pulled her towards her, even as another voice pushed her away. Grace stared at Xander. "I don't know you who are and I don't you know want." She grimaced at the knot her voice had become and tried again. "I don't know you who are. I don't know who you want."

"We want to help you," said Xander quietly. "We know you're a Slayer. And with that, comes certain … things."

Faith, shadow-flitting past Grace, picked up her daughter and nodded. The child tucked in contentedly against her breast. "What he said. And we want to help you control them. You shouldn't be alone – dealing with this alone – "

"-hurts," said Grace.

Faith nodded. "Yes," she said.

"No. It hurts. All of it. All of this. I want to go back. Take me back." The words built up inside her like a river and she could feel the water pounding behind her eyes. She glanced again at the window.

"Grace – please – it hurts. Being like this, trust me kid, I know. But it doesn't have to. Give us a second. Let us help you bear it."

"Voices," said Grace thickly. She was falling into mist and shadow. "You're all voices. Some of us need silence." She stepped towards Faith and lunged out.

"Xan-" Faith dodged the heavy movement and slid over towards Xander. "Take her." The baby passed between their arms, and the Slayer slid down into a fighting stance. "Grace, there are ways to do this and this isn't one of them. We're not trying to hurt you. We want to help you."

"One day I'm going to meet a Slayer who doesn't talk with her fists," said Xander, pushing himself into the corner of the room. "One day." Lucy gurgled her agreement.

"Not today Galvatron" said Faith, "God, look at me, I'm talking geek. We've been dating too long dude" She feinted backwards as Grace began to weave her way towards a window. "Grace – talk to me! Remember who you are!"

Grace slid into the movement and slammed her fist into Faith's face. The dark-haired Slayer looked appalled and then furious. "You let her get that one yes?" called out Xander.

"Shut up," replied Faith. She kicked out at Grace, brutally efficient with her aim and suddenly Grace found herself face down on the floor. Grace rolled away, and then the voices in her head silenced as her body took over. She threw herself back to her feet, jabbing an elbow into Faith's side before grabbing her hair and dragging her backwards. Faith, more surprised than anything, fell heavily to the floor and Grace seized her moment.

She also seized the baby.

It was a matter of seconds, but she did it. One moment she was raming her knee down into Faith's chest, and the next she had the baby in her arms.

And the pain in her head suddenly ceased.


	4. Chapter 4

She said it all while she could. Whilst there was silence inside her head. "I don't want to be a Slayer. So just take me home. And there's something wrong with your baby." Her words tumbled over themselves in their rush to be said.

Faith shifted, ever so slightly, on her feet. Grace read her and knew what she was planning. So she said, "Don't" and nodded down at the baby.

Fury, red and lurid, flared in Faith's face. Xander stood up and placed his arm on her shoulder. "Don't," he said. He turned to look at Grace and she took an involuntary step back as she registered the expression on his face.

If ever a man could be made of ice, thought the cogent part of Grace, this was what this man was made of. A mess of angles and of tight lips and at the centre, an eye that burnt like the heart of a fire. The curious thing was that it frightened her more than the primal rage currently spitting out of Faith.

Xander said, very calmly, very slowly, "Okay. You can go home."

"Good," said Grace.

"I need to phone somebody and ask them to make us a portal. Can you give me the baby first, Grace?"

"A portal?" she said disbelievingly, "Really? That sort of thing exists?"

"Yes," said Xander, "Magic's real. You're a walking truth of that, to be honest. And even though it's lovely to chat like this, I'd like you to give me back the baby now."

Grace stepped forward and held out Lucy. And then, as the voices slammed right back into her head, the moment the baby left her, Grace gasped and pulled her back to her body. "No!" she cried, breathing heavily from the intensity of the attack, "Don't you see?"

"Really don't," spat Faith. "You know I could take the kid if I wanted to, right?"

Grace nodded. And she knew all of the ways it could happen. Had lived them already and didn't want to live them again. Then the memory of that blade into her mind hit her again and she clasped the child to her tightly "I'm not giving her up."

"Wrong," said Faith. "You are."

A dizzying pain erupted inside her head and Grace collapsed forward. Lucy span from her arms and fell towards the floor, and suddenly Faith was there, sliding underneath her and grabbing the baby, and then she was gone and Grace was face down on the floor.

Then Grace was nothing but madness.

"Take her down," snapped Xander, wrapping his arms around his slightly surprised daughter.

"Don't have to ask me twice," said Faith, launching herself at Grace. The two Slayers grappled on the floor, and Faith slapped her hand hard across Grace's face before closing her hands around her throat. Grace bucked, wildly, and managed to dislodge Faith briefly. Scrabbling to her feet, Grace stamped on Faith's hand and turned back to Xander only to feel Faith lock her arms around her lower body, slam her into the floor, and then bodily throw her up and fling her into the nearest wall. Dust and rubble sparkled in the sunlight around her.

And Grace fell thankfully into darkness.

Faith stared at the unconscious teenager before throwing herself at Xander and Lucy. She pulled the two of them to her, tightly, too tightly. "Slayer hug," wheezed Xander. Faith dropped her arms, abashed. "Didn't say stop though did I?"

"I love you," said Faith, kissing both him and their daughter hungrily. They turned, interlocked, unable to let go, to look across at Grace. "I love you both so much. But oh my god, this girl, Xan, what have we done bringing her here? What have we done?"

"We'll help her," said Xander steadily.

Faith stared at the girl and said, "But what if we can't."


	5. Chapter 5

Shards. That was what she was. Shards, and starlit shattered glass.

She pressed her hands to her head and tried to remember what had gone on. Images of the child, and of Faith, and of Xander, and then of a thousand other girls and demons and warriors and death and –

Grace closed her eyes and thought of popcorn.

She thought of toffee popcorn and of the night her and her friends drove into town and smuggled their own food into the cinema. She made herself remember that night. The sheer joy of not being afraid of the dark. Of the dark not trying to kill her.

All gone, said a voice in her brain. All gone.

She began to cry then, tears sliding down her face with a heavy certainty. This was wrong. All wrong. She was wrong. And the baby! The baby was wrong. It made her sick. The memory of holding it, of feeling it jar against her very soul, made her double up and vomit heavily onto the floor. She stayed like that, locked in a twist of pain, before eventually straightening up.

She would get out of her. She didn't know yet, but she knew she would. She wiped her mouth clean and stared outside of the windows in the corner of the room. The barred windows.

She stood there for a long time, rock still, and eventually her mind started to clear. She didn't know quite what she was doing, but something told her that it was okay to move. She stood straight up. Her hands clasped together in a gesture she knew and didn't know, and her arms swung into a motion, cutting through the air in a slow, steady movement.

She closed her eyes. Let her legs follow the movement of her arms, allowing her whole body to sink into the routine. Let her breath flow, her _chi _settle. Inside her mind she saw another girl, blonde, tiny, breakable, and how she had done this very routine next to a vampire. A vampire with a soul. A vampire so very wrong but, in a way, right. She watched the two of them move, felt the heat in the room, and then, as they got closer, felt suddenly intrusive and opened her eyes, pulled herself back to the now.

She raised her eyebrows at Faith, stood watching her. "Who's the blondie?" said Grace. She knew. Of course she knew. She knew everything about every Slayer that ever was. Words, words, words inside her head. A Slayer fought with everything she had.

"A permanent headache," said Faith. "How do you feel?"

Grace shrugged. "Fine," she said.

"Fine fine, or baby snatching fine?"

"I didn't choose to be here."

Faith rolled her eyes. "_I_ didn't choose to be here."

Grace looked confused. "Surely you did, though, because, you know, you're here?"

"Slayer," said Faith. "I didn't choose it. Would have given it back in a heartbeat. That's something we got in common, I'm thinking. Why don't you want this?"

"Huh," Grace said, swallowing slightly. "I mean, I tend to like to be asked before I get, you know, life changes thrust upon me?"

"So. Fucking. British."

"So. Fucking. American."

Faith laughed sharply, half-amused, half-infuriated with the girl. "Come on," she said, "We're trying to help you here. This is something you _are _now, and yet, all it seems to be doing to you is making you crazy or getting you killed. Neither of which we want, yo?"

"I don't want this," said Grace. That was one thing she was clear about. "It might work for you, for him, for your baby of wrongness, but it doesn't work for me."

"You need to stop talking about my baby like that," said Faith.

Grace shook her head. "No, no, you don't see it? I mean, I _felt _it! Even when I saw her, I _felt _she was wrong? Don't you know it? Don't you see it? It made all of – all of me – explode!" And then, with her new near preternatural ability of reading people, of seeing inside their body language, of knowing the movement before them, she realised something. Something key. "You do know," she said, slowly, watching Faith, feeling her inside her head, _knowing _her. "You've known about the baby all along."


	6. Chapter 6

"Yes," said Faith coolly. "What's your point, though?"

Grace took a step closer to the bars. Knew she could bend them in two without a moments hesitation. Knew, as well, that Faith could kill her in a thousand ways before she left the room. "Make it right," she said, "Solve the problem."

The voice inside her head, the voice that longed for solitude and for the before world to reappear, knew exactly what she meant. And the chatter, the clatter of the thousands and thousands of Slayers before and after her, stilled. The silence was intoxicating.

"Solve it – how?"

Grace shrugged, crouching low behind the bars. She rubbed her hand to the floor. Felt the primeval inside of her. "As the wind blows," she said, "So dance the roses when you cut their thorns."

"I'm not killing her," said Faith bluntly. "If that's what you mean with the crazy."

"But you know she's wrong."

"We're all wrong, sweetheart, some of us wronger than others. Doesn't mean she won't grow up to be a bright bold and beautiful thing."

Faith, Grace realised, was shining. She looked at her and for the first time, in a long time, she smiled. "She makes you proud."

"She's my daughter." There was everything in Faith's response, and the way she said it with such blunt simplicity. "And what I need to know is, if we let you go, are you going to make me regret that?"

Grace pulled herself up, locking her hands around the bar. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I can't. I don't think I can. Without her there are voices, voices, all of them, too many, and I – I'm lost in the woods. And when I held her, it was clear. The pain stopped. How can I let that go?"

Faith didn't say anything for a long time. She tilted her head a little to the left and stared at Grace. It was as if she was looking inside of her. Grace had to blink, to break it, and then ducked her head away.

"Faith," she said, "Please don't make me be this."

The tears came back again, uncalled for, and she dashed her hand across her face. And then the words spilt out of her. "I want to kill your baby," she said, "I want to kill her, and I want to kill myself. Is that strange? So mad? I was normal, once, this isn't me. My life ended a long ago. Please Faith, can't you see? This isn't it. This – I can't handle it."

"You can," said Faith, "You could-"

Grace shattered. "I can't! I can't, I can't, I can't! I was dying!"

"You killed that thing. Killed it real good as well."

"And what of its mate?"

Faith looked startled. "It had a mate?"

"They always have mates," said Grace, self-mocking laughter breaking out in between her tears, "Know how I know that? How I know that and oh my GOD, I even know its FUCKING NAME? How I know it's a Cornu Alteris and they always run in pairs?! Because Hildegard (803-812) knew, Amelia (1908-1911) knew and a thousand more - Rachel, Annabeth, Demetria, Mina - all of them! They knew, so I knew, and I don't WANT that, I can't have it all in my head, I WAS FINE BEFORE THIS! Would you like me to tell you what it is, how it hunts, how it finds me, how it can hurt you – how it will kill you? I know it ALL now and I don't want it, I don't, I can't!"

"Grace-"

"SHUT UP" she screamed, falling onto her knees and smashing her forehead against the floor. "Blood is blood is blood is blood and mine is yours and yours is mine and I will KILL your child so help me God for what you have done to me!"

"No you won't," said Faith, stepping closer to the bars, "Because I will."


	7. Chapter 7

Xander shifted his daughter into another arm, letting her settle against him. He smiled awkwardly at the demon, stood outside the castle gates. "I'm sorry, but no, you've got the wrong address."

The Cornu Alteris shook its head. "Please, but no. Remove your small-one from your arms. I would like to kill you now."

"Oh. Do you have to?"

"A life for a life," it said. "You killed my mate. A penance is due. Terribly sorry, I am."

"We did not," said Xander. It was more reflex than anything, but playground politics had a lot of pertinence to the demon world. "I'm sorry but, you know, if we did, I guess he –"

"It"

"It, I'm sorry, I guess it was doing something it shouldn't."

"You're wrong," said the Cornu Alteris, equally politely. "So an impasse, we have. Intriguing is it not?"

Fighting back the urge to have a Yoda-off with this thing, Xander gestured at the magic that crackled through the gates. "Barred," he said. "Both physically and magickally. You can't get in. You'll fry. Please don't try."

Dear Big Bad / Please Don't Be Mad / Or you'll be sad. He grinned to himself. This was like the demonic version of a Dr Seuss book. Oh his baby was growing up in such a strange world. He blew on her face and watched her smile back at him. Life was good, he thought, and he thought, with some dark amusement, that he shouldn't really be thinking of this when he was having a chat with a Cornu Alteris. And then he wondered what would be his daughter's first word? Would it be something that reflect the dark world they were in or would it be something like Daddy or Mummy? He longed for it to be Daddy. For that to be her first word. For him to be her first verbalised thought.

The Cornu Alteris said, somewhat quietly, "She's very beautiful. You must be proud. Her eyes are like jewels from the very depths."

Xander looked up at the demon who, whilst he had been distracted, come closer. "I really don't want to kill you," it said. "I never went in for that sort of thing. Not my cup of tea. My mate did it all. To pay the bills. You know how it is. And now I must exact vengeance." It didn't seem particularly happy about it. It rocked back onto its haunches, the horn on its head pointing upright. "But you must put the child aside beforehand."

"I'm being Daddy daycare right now, so I'd, you know, rather not. She takes forever to go to sleep."

The Cornu Alteris shrugged. "Then I will wait," it said, as if it were discussing the weather. "Good day." It paused, and then got up, standing upright. It was immense, and threw a shadow across the gates and Xander and Lucy. "I smell them," it said, "Both of them. They come with blood on their breath."

"Must make sure to expense some mouthwash," replied Xander airily. He turned around to see Faith – and the crazy girl. Walking towards him.

His Spidey sense tingled.

_._


	8. Chapter 8

Faith glanced sideways at Grace and motioned her to be still. The girl stopped, and started to shake. "I hear them," she said, clasping her head in her hands, "The voices! They call out to me." She started to scrape at her head with her fingers, drawing bloody streaks on her skin. "Make it stop. Make it stop."

"Shut up," said Faith. The demon at the gate hadn't moved. "Is that the mate?"

Grace nodded, breathing heavily. "Mate, bate, burning fate, oh yes, oh yes."

Xander raised his eyebrows at Faith. His question was obvious. She ignored him. "Give me the baby."

"What are you doing?"

"Give me Lucy." She stood there with her arms out. She looked at Lucy and she heard the voices, same as Grace. She heard them forever and had done since the day she'd started slayin'. Thing was, the voices, they didn't rule her. Didn't leave her crumbling into nothing on the floor. Not now.

Xander unhooked Lucy from his shirt, holding her chubby fingers in his. "We killed its mate," he said, jerking his head towards it, "It wants revenge."

"Don't they all," replied Faith. She felt her heart break as Xander passed Lucy over to her. The baby murmured a little before settling.

Grace broke, then, and threw herself towards Faith. She fell to her knees, blooded and bruised. "Kill her," she whispered. Even her voice had changed. It was darker. Thicker. More – primal. As if the person Grace had been once had been totally lost.

"Oh no," said Xander. He grabbed Grace and tried to pull her back. Grace ducked, dropping her shoulder, and threw Xander over her shoulder. Hard. His back slammed into one of the walls and his eyes closed.

At the gates, the Cornu Alteris suddenly stood up.

Faith cried, "Grace!"

She held Lucy high, up above her head.

"Not my name, not my name," said Grace.

"Grace," said Faith again. "Grace, Grace Mandeville. So sad and scared and all alone. It works both ways Grace, I _know _you. I know who you are. I hear the voices too."

Lucy shifted a little, uncomfortable. Faith tightened her grip. Kept her eyes on Grace. "Fight it. Fight it. Remember who you are."

Grace shook her head. "Voices, voices, all the voices, I hear them and I am lost, I am no more."

Glancing around her, marking everything, knowing exactly where she was, Faith backed away towards the gates. Grace kept her eyes on the baby. She was drawn to it. You could see it in the way her whole body was focused on the tiny kicking person in Faith's arms. "Please," she whispered, "I don't know who I am any more."

"Your name is Grace Mandeville, and you are a Slayer." Faith closed her eyes and felt around inside the shadowy part of her head. "You're real," she said, "You like movies, and popcorn, and that moment when the credits roll in the cinema."

"Kill the child!" said Grace, still in that low barely controlled voice. "Kill it. Kill me. Kill yourself. This is all wrong."

"Tell me about the cinema, about the films."

Grace looked up at Faith, seeing her properly for the first time in a very long time. "I love Disney," she said.

"That's my girl. Tell me more."

"Princesses," she said, sort of shocked and surprised. "Princesses, crowns, crown of thorns, kill the child!"

"GRACE." Faith's voice was thunderous. "Face your fucking darkness already and fucking deal with the fucker! You are not the crazy bitch you're being right now!" Lucy squirmed and Faith tightened her grip. The baby started crying.

Xander started to stir, his body moving out of the dust where he lay. Behind him, the Cornu Alteris took a slow, nervous step towards the gate. Faith wrinkled her nose, feeling the magic of the barriers start to work on the demon. She could smell sulphur.

"Voices. All voices. I am no more."

"You ARE," snapped Faith, "You fucking well ARE. You're HERE Grace, we brought you here to SAVE You." Grace shook her head, unable to speak, and kicked out at Faith. Faith, expecting it, surprised it hadn't turned to this earlier, took a step back. Closer to the gates. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought she was being herded towards the walls.

"Grace, don't let the voices win!" Being a Slayer, it meant – opening yourself up. Shifting the sands of you and pouring in a thousand other voices. And Faith knew it. She'd been there. Listening to the darkness, the demons, and she'd drowned inside of it all. You just had to fight. To swim up, to free yourself of it. To remind yourself of you, and that regardless of all the thousands of others inside your head, it all boiled down to you.

You mattered.

"You matter, Grace, you do."

We shouldn't have done this, she thought, we gave this to everyone and not everyone can handle it, not everyone should handle it, how can they do it when they are alone, oh my baby girl I cannot let you see what your mother had done in her name I am so sorry.

Inside her mind, she heard Lucy call out to her.

Her baby. A Slayer. The first ever to be born a Slayer.

A fracture in the world.

And a brand marked on her forehead since day one.

Xander didn't know.

How could she tell him? How could she break his heart and tell him that the cycle of their lives would continue with this child they had fated to an early grave?

How could she tell him that they'd killed their daughter before she'd even begun?

Grace threw a punch that Faith sidestepped easily. The momentum made Grace fall, clumsily, towards Xander and the gate. Gravel span up from her legs as she skidded to the floor. Xander started to pull himself up, a look of pure red fury on his face.

Lucy began to scream.

Faith ignored it all. Looked at Grace. "Remember who you are," she said. "Please. Please don't let the darkness win. We brought you here to save you."

"Wrong," said the Cornu Alteris. It thrust its horn through the gate, through the magic barrier, and straight through Grace's heart. "You brought her here to die."

Grace spasmed, her arms flinging out to grab hold of nothing and then, she opened her mouth to say something. But it was too late. All of it was too late.

It was over.

Xander looked at Faith, looked at her across the body of a girl they'd set out to save, and at a woman he thought he knew.

"Give me my daughter," he said.

He didn't move.


End file.
